Though I've fasted and wept,
Wept and prayed
And stayed stoic long
Through passing day
And bard men song
I can never,
Never truly say
I have achieved arête

With clunky meter
And rhythms wrong
With stumbling stanzas
And rambling on
I must confess
My souls intent.
My fear,
To be regarded as
Just decent

No I'm not the son of Xanthippus
Who instigated the apogee of Athens
The past beacons of Atticus
Dims my own ember passions

Though I've loved and lost
Loved and lusted
Won a few
Others busted
Though I've seen the world at the needle point,
With all the sordid souls suffering
I've lived like Cummings
The farthest extent of emotions
I've kept a drug induced devotion
But never could I stop from wondering
Never could cease sundering

I've seen the valleys of my life
Where the flowers are disseminated like t.v. static
And the only sound a high tinnitus pitch
I've said go, Go I don't love you anymore
Not pretty enough to be a poem
Not intelligent enough to be of any use

I've drank with old lost men, dreamers, sloths, faux intellectuals, and conniving *****.
I've seen them carefully explain their situation
And hope for their future.

Though I've smiled and agreed
Agreed and died
Through all this hell
I have tried